When Everything is Right
by TheChicaChic
Summary: Set in the 1982 movie-verse. Featuring Oliver and Grace with a little itty bit of Annie. "Mom's stressing out." These were the words that first reached through the otherwise occupied mind of one Oliver Warbucks early one winter's afternoon.


_**AN: Yay for another little Annie ficlet. I am so enjoying finding my Oliver and Grace with everyone. You've all made me feel welcome to the fandom and I'm so glad that you're finding enjoyment from my stories. Thank you everyone for your kind reviews, and I'll take your requests for an engagement to the muses. The honeymoon evening - well, while I have no problem writing smut, it kind of feels wrong for the Annie fandom. But I'm sure I could have my arm twisted.  
**_

* * *

"Mom's stressing out."

These were the words that first reached through the otherwise occupied mind of one Oliver Warbucks early one winter's afternoon. News of political unrest in France had finally reached the shores of the United States, followed quickly by a strike of Taxi Cab drivers in New York City, and a merger of the Cunard and White Star shipping lanes in England meant there was much he had to focus on. Already three factories on the outskirts of Paris were reporting monthly losses far greater than anyone; even himself; could have predicted, and those reports had arrived by special carrier just that morning.

The four days of problems in France alone would cost him thousands in loss profits and wages.

Never mind the loss of time and resources he had put into bidding on buying out the struggling White Star Shipping Line, and a strike of Taxi drivers in his home city meant for him.

No, Oliver's mind was definitely engrossed in the various reports he was reading and not to the room he sat. Vaguely he had noticed his eleven-year-old daughter coming into the room, her ever faithful dog Sandy by her side, but he had quickly become engrossed in the figures of those Paris factories. Besides, since she had come to their household permanently, Oliver had often found Annie quietly sitting across from him, watching and seemingly learning from all that he did. Surprisingly, it never came to unnerve him, something that still amazed him.

He knew his wife wasn't present; _that_ was one thing that never escaped his notice; and so Annie's quiet comment of ' _Mom's stressing out'_ caused him to raise his gaze from the report. She was quietly watching him, perched in the chair Grace so often occupied, her gingham dress for once clean and straight, and so it took him a moment to process what she was saying.

But Annie must have mistaken his quiet stare for confusion because she sighed drastically, her shoulders rising as she said "Daddy Warbucks you have to stop mom. She's yelling at the gardeners like you do."

That final statement caught his attention, causing Oliver to push his chair back and stand quickly. Grace was the levelheaded one in their relationship – she always had been – and not once in the near eleven years he'd known her had she ever reached his level of indignation. Mid-level frustration, yes, but not full blown anger, and never directed towards anyone but himself. And while Annie was prone to exaggeration, he somehow did not think she was misreading Grace. "Where is your mother Annie?"

"She's in the convatory," the red-head said, standing like her father.

"That's conservatory," Oliver corrected, straightening his suit jacket before heading towards the door.

* * *

"I specifically directed that the replanting of the lilies and roses had to be completed last week. _Not_ today." Grace paused at this, anger radiating through her body as she looked around the disaster that was the conservatory. Tonight they were hosting not only the senior members of Oliver's company and their wives, but the crème de la crème of New York's society and government for a musical gala.

And it was the first evening she was hosting any such event as his wife.

Everything _had_ to be perfect. Not only did it reflect on Oliver's business, but it could be the deciding factor of how they…he…no, they, would be received by anyone in society and business again. Just one faux pau and she knew it could cost Oliver a contract or a contact with some influential person. But the worst would be the society women. Already they looked their noses down at her for marrying her boss. So what if they were in love; that was _not_ a reason to get married.

Oh she knew Oliver didn't care what anyone thought. _He_ loved her, _he_ loved Annie, and that was  all that mattered; everyone else be damned. But she cared. She wanted to help him further his business in ways she'd never been able to in the past. Just as she wanted to make him proud of the woman he married. Hosting the perfect gala would go a long way towards doing that.

Alright, and she wanted to show the women of society that she wasn't _nothing._

Spinning around, she turned on the second set of gardeners, the ones holding paint brushes and wrenches. "And the fountains! What in blazes name made you think today of all days was the day to drain the fountains and paint them? **_Who_** is responsible for this disaster?" She spins again, facing the chamber orchestra who are setting up their instruments in the background and growls, "Will you _be_ silent?"

She doesn't have a chance to say anything else as a strong hand grips her elbow and the silky smooth voice of her husband speaks loudly. "Excuse me everyone, I'm sorry to interrupt but I need to borrow my wife for a bit of a work emergency." Sliding her hand through the crook of his elbow, he smiles at everyone, muttering that they should all carry on before leading her towards the orangery.

Stepping into the smaller but more fragrant room, Oliver closed the doors before turning to his wife. Staring into her eyes, he slowly ran his hands down her arms, gripping her hands in his.

"Oliver, I don't have time for this," Grace said, squeezing his hands as she made to step away.

"Stop," he muttered, drawing her into his arms. "And leave the employees be."

"How can I when so much is…"

"Darling, everything is going to be perfect." Seeing her begin to argue, he leaned forward, pressing his lips softly against hers. Feeling the resistance she was putting forth, he sighed, pulling back slightly to meet her eyes. Hating the frustration and fear he could see mixed behind them. "Tell me what I can do to make things right."

"Where do you want me to start?" she asked, sighing herself before leaning forward to rest her head on his chest. Before she could continue, his arms raised to hold her tight, and she sighed again, feeling some of that tension leave her body.

"From the sounds of it, you're not happy with the flowers and the fountains won't be running tonight. While both somewhat concerning, they shouldn't be enough to wind you up like this."

"You left off my having no dress due to the Taxi Strike, the caterer called to cancel leaving Mrs. Pugh to prepare hors d'oeuvres for seventy people in five hours, Drake cannot find the 1906 White Burgundy we were going to serve in the cellar, and Sandy ate the napkins." With this, she felt tears begin to form and she blinked to chase them away.

"Darling," Oliver said, holding her tighter to his chest as he laid his cheek on her hair. "You have that magnificent lavender evening gown you wore to dinner on our honeymoon. Wear that tonight. Mrs. Pugh will have a wonderful feast for our guests to enjoy during intermission which will be served by our house staff that adore you. Our guests can drink whatever Drake can find to go with the menu and damn well enjoy it. And really, who cares about the napkins?"

Carefully, he unwrapped himself, from around her so he could meet her eyes. Seeing the tears running down her cheek, he whispered, "oh my love," before kissing them away.

"You forgot about the disaster that is the conservatory," she said, feeling his love wash over her and filing his suggestions away.

"Have the evening in the main hall. So what if everyone has seen it a hundred times. They can damn well appreciate the fact that we're even hosting this get-together for them. Now, is that everything bothering you?"

Eyes meeting his, she asked the last thing that was bothering her. "What about Annie?"

"What about her?" Holding her tightly to him again, he felt a grin fill his face as he said, "Personally I'm hoping she does something to make the evening highly spectacular and puts those society bitties in their place." Then, before she could answer, he took her lips with his, kissing her long and hard until she forgot everything else.


End file.
